


Nightmare with cover art

by Thruterryseyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dean-Centric, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Supernatural Art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 13:40:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11060151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thruterryseyes/pseuds/Thruterryseyes
Summary: Bad stuff happens when you hunt alone.(Art's a tad out of proportion but still okay.)





	Nightmare with cover art

 

The blow came out of the blackness, a lightning bolt of pain he never saw coming.

One moment he was moving cautiously through the shadows in the alley, sawed- off at ready, the next he was slammed against the side of a building across the street, the glare of a too-bright streetlamp blasting him with brilliance.

In shock, he lifted his hands that had clamped reflexively over the flood of crimson pouring from his belly in some instinctive effort to keep his guts from spilling out. His sleeves were already soaked to the elbow in gore.

He pressed a hand back over the wound, in a futile gesture; the fabric over his abdomen looked like a slaughterhouse rag.

It looks worse than it is, he told himself. He had always considered himself a consummate liar; it was sobering to realize how truly full of shit he was.

Body shuddering, he squinted his eyes against the light; his dropped gun mocked him from the impossible distance of his feet. Reaching out with his left hand he tried to bend forward enough to snag the weapon, but blackness swept through his brain at even the slightest effort and he let his hand fall to the side.

His breath sawed in and out in a wrenching series of groans he couldn't have stopped if he had given any thought to the fact he was making them. He ordered his leg to bend to the side and shove the gun back to his hand, but his leg basically told him to go fuck himself.

A sharp sound came at him from the darkness he had just been thrown from, a hoarse coughing snort ending in a slow hiss of indrawn breath. Claws scratched against the dirty bricks.

His eyes blurred. Breathing became a major effort. Pain engulfed his upper body in flames. The sight of a broad, red-scaled paw stepping out of the darkness, talons clicking and dragging as it was lifted and placed back on the ground to be joined a second later by its mate focused his attention to that one spot.

His heartbeat sped up, pumping even more blood from his wounds.

"God….aw shit…"

The snorting noise came again, followed by a low growl as two red eyes appeared in the shadows, the paws inching forward, the beast within edging closer to its wounded prey. The Brandeesii's heavy, low-slung body oozed slowly form the darkness. Two long, black tongues whipped out and danced along the ground toward him.

It may have been blind, but it could taste blood and track the source for miles once it had tagged a victim with the oil from its claws. A wounded man lying twenty feet away in a spreading pool of blood wasn't going to afford it much of a challenge.

He reached out desperately with both hands and grabbed the fabric of his jeans, pulling with everything he could find within himself. It wasn't much, but enough to tip him sideways and send him toppling over in the basic direction his gun. The pain was incredible and he was sure the sound that filled the street was him screaming, but the sensation of his fingers closing on the barrel of his shotgun overrode everything.

He didn't recall the gun ever being so heavy, even as a child, and it took all his strength to lift it, wobbling wildly in both unsteady, blood- slick hands. Aiming wasn't an option; he'd be happy if he pointed it in the damned thing's general direction.

"C'mon, motherfucker!"

The ragged words had barely left his mouth when it charged. His finger spasmed on the dual triggers in an echoing explosion of sound that seemed impossibly loud even to him.

He knew he'd missed before the recoil threw him against the building once again, agony paralyzing him, his vision blacking out even as he registered another explosion of gunfire and his legs were crushed beneath a dead weight, causing him to cry out again as one set of claws sank into the flesh of his thigh.

The sound of boots slamming against the ground came to him through the roaring in his ears as he coughed blood and tried to piece together what had happened.

The claws were suddenly pulled free and the weight was shoved off his legs. Hands gripped his arms, his face, and explored the wreckage of his belly.

"Dean! God, Dean... Shit…you'll be okay…you're gonna be okay. The car broke down…I had to run the last half mile…. God…you're okay…it's okay…. Stay with me."

Dean coughed, blood running form the corner of his mouth. "I'm not…going anywhere…Dad…"

End


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